Page 28 of Dizzy

Boots stomp down the steps. My muscles bunch.

Heavy comes in first, ducking under the doorframe. Dizzy’s behind him. I exhale the breath I was holding, and my shoulders ease down.

Jed and Nickel move to come over, but Heavy waves them back. He picks up the folding chair and sits.

“Let’s start over, Fay-Lee. No questions. Instead, I’m going to tell you what I know.”

I look to Dizzy. He’s standing to the side, arms folded, face shuttered. He won’t meet my eyes. Okay. My jitters swoop to life.

Heavy smiles. It’s not the slightest bit reassuring. His canines are crazy sharp. Wolf-like.

“I know you’ve been squatting. You’ve been sneaking in with our guests. Helping yourself to food from the kitchen and booze from the bar.”

He smiles wider. “I know that despite that, you’re probably hungry. Tired. In need of a hot shower. You’re a long way from home.”

As if on cue, my stomach rumbles.

Where is he going with this?

“You came here with Chaos. Do you know where he went?”

It seems like a genuine question. I shake my head.

“He left you here?”

I shrug.

He waits, head cocked.

“Yes,” I croak. I clear my throat. “He ditched me.”

Heavy nods his shaggy head. He has the same wiry, black hair and beard as Dizzy, but where Dizzy looks badass, Heavy looks like an extra from a cable TV show about dragons. There’re only a few inches and a thirty or so pounds difference between them, but I guess that’s the difference between a large man and a giant.

“That’s messed up. I’m sorry you ended up in this situation.” He waits.

“Thanks?”

He smiles, encouragingly. “I have a proposition for you. Dizzy and I have been talking. We’ve figured out a solution that will work for everyone.”

Dizzy’s face doesn’t soften at all.

“The way I see it, you owe us for our hospitality. We can’t just let folks trespass and steal from us without consequence. Wouldn’t look good, would it?”

He waits again. I shake my head.

“It seems to me you owe us. And it turns out that Dizzy here is in need of a house mouse.”

Heavy leans back in the chair, clasping his hands over his broad stomach. The chair groans. He cocks his head.

Does this mean they’re not gonna kill me?

“What’s a house mouse?”

“A woman who cleans. Cooks. Like a maid.”

“Like a maid?”

“She’s free pussy, too, but mostly cleaning as I understand. I’ve never had one myself. Grinder, you have, right?”

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